


This Probably Won't End Well

by ded_i_am_just_ded



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Hand Jobs, Implied Smut, Jjbek, M/M, Multi, Open Ending, Otapliroy, Please Don't Hurt Me, Pliroy, Rare pair but the world needs more, Super otayuri and rare pairs secret Santa 2k17, There i updated the tags ya pansies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 06:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13289127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ded_i_am_just_ded/pseuds/ded_i_am_just_ded
Summary: Yuri kissed him first.Jean didn't know what to do with his hands.Super Secret Santa 2k17





	This Probably Won't End Well

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blownwish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/gifts).



> I'm sliding in to home plate right at the deadline! It's not nearly what I had originally planned, but if I'd gone on much longer, I would have missed the deadline. Happy new year, blownwish, I hope this is satisfactory!

Yuri kissed him first.

They'd just come off the ice in Skate Canada, the Russian looking fierce in heavy eyeliner and thick stage-makeup contouring his cheekbones. He was wearing something dark and glittery and the lights of the locker room made him look so pale as he marched over to him and gave him a once over.

Jean didn't know what to do with his hands.

“Unzip this fucking thing for me.” It wasn't a request. Yuri's green eyes were shards of glass that cut through him for only a brief moment, before he was turning and lifting his hair. When Jean didn't move fast enough, Yuri glanced through the triangle in his arm, over his shoulder and in a stiffer voice said, “Please?”

Jean’s hand shook as he pulled the zipper down, revealing pale skin just to the swell of Yuri's ass. He paused, swallowed and tried to remember that this was _Yuri,_ Ice Tiger of Russia, and mortal enemy. But Yuri stepped away, the zipper slipping from Jean’s fingers, and turned, looking up at him with those pouty lips as he peeled an arm out of the suit, “Thanks.”

Jean nodded, unable to find his voice. Yuri wasn't much shorter than him anymore, the last three years and a few growth spurts had been kind to him. When the blonde stepped up almost to his chest and lifted a sharp smirk at him, he wondered if the other could hear his heart beating out of his chest. He could feel warm breath ghost over his lips, and then Yuri pushed himself up on the balls of his feet and closed the space between them.

It was over before Jean could react, but he felt it in his bones, it shook him to his core. The entire world tilted, then uprighted in a whole new pattern. Yuri was already moving away, pulling a shirt on without looking back.

If his mouth hadn't suddenly tasted like cherry chapstick, he'd have thought he imagined the whole thing. Jean couldn't move until the locker room was empty again.

◇●◇●◇●◇

Otabek asked him first.

Jean was probably a little past buzzed and he probably should have stopped drinking, but it was an open bar and he wanted to forget a lot. The last time he'd been at the Grand Prix, he'd been with Isabella. Sure, they were had already been drawing up the divorce papers, but they were still friends, and Jean hadn't been alone.

He was drinking a whiskey sour when he saw Yuri for the first time since Skate Canada. He was looking gorgeous, as always, in a dark blue suit that looked like it was sewn onto him. He was standing next to his “best friend” Otabek Altin. Never confirmed or denied, Otabek's hand pressed into the small of his back was definitely not “best friends" territory. Jean finished his drink and set it on the bar, pushing it towards the bartender, who stepped over to refill it. Jean watched him pour the whiskey, then looked away.

Otabek was staring at him. It caught him by surprise and he felt his body freeze. They'd been friends when they were younger, but years and miles had slowly dropped that status to acquaintances, so when he found those warm brown eyes locking with his he didn't understand the warmth that coiled in his stomach and gave birth to butterflies. They watched each other, Jean unable to understand the message the other seemed to be sending, until Yuri pulled Otabek's attention away. Jean watched the hand curl possessively on Yuri's back, then turned away. He shot his drink and let the whiskey burn him all the way down.

Two hours later, Jean was aware that he was so far past sober, he probably should have let Leo escort him to his room as offered. Instead, he wandered the hotel hallways, trying to remember his room number, though he was pretty sure he was on the wrong floor. He found a cove in the hall without any doors and slumped into the wall, leaning back against it for support until his legs gave out and he slipped down to sit. Yeah, he was definitely drunk, and wow, this carpet was ugly.

He was watching his fingers move over the hideous pattern when the elevator chirped from somewhere down the hallway. He was so absorbed in his study of his fingers and trying not to pass out he didn't even register the voices until he heard a familiar, dark one say, “I'll be right there, you go ahead.”

There was something said in another language by a sharper, slightly higher-pitched voice and the heavy sound of a door closing. Jean sighed and lifted his hand, keen on studying it’s outline against the light from the ceiling. There was someone suddenly in front of him, a dark wall that blocked out the light until the figure crouched in front of him.

“JJ?”

Jean let out a startled laugh and pulled his hand back to his lap, “Heya, Otabek, Beks, Bek.”

He watched the Kazakh frown and lean back to look around, “What are you doing? Are you alone? Where's your room?”

Jean grinned, but it kept slipping away from him, “Alone, always alone.” He moved to lean forward and his stomach protested, “If this is the Russian floor, I must really be lost.”

Otabek took hold of his wrist and moved to stand, trying to bring him with. Jean protested for all of 5 seconds, then stood, closing his eyes against the spinning lights, “You shouldn't be wandering around like this, Jean. What's your room number?”

Oh, he loved the sound of his name on Otabek's lips. He let his head lull back against the wall and fumbled into his pocket for his room key, “Doesn't matter, though. No one here or there, it’s all good. The King can just sleep right here.”

Otabek must have gotten tired of Jean’s failure to find his room key, he grabbed his wrist and pulled it out of his pocket. Next thing Jean knew, there was a hand not his own searching him. He laughed again, letting the other do as he pleased, and pushed his free hand against his face. Otabek made an annoyed noise and released him. Jean felt his body heat distance itself so he opened his eyes again, “Heya, Beks, help me home, will ya?”

Otabek huffed, “That's kind of the plan. Come on, you drunk.”

Jean pushed himself off the wall, his entire body protesting the movement. The heat in his stomach threatened to turn into physical rebellion, he held a finger up so Otabek wouldn't rush him, “I may have had one too many.”

A warm body slid up next to him, next thing he knew, Otabek dropped a hand on his waist from behind and slung his arm over his shoulder, then tugged him out into the hall and back towards the elevators. “Thank God you're only one floor away. Yuri's going to throw a fit.”

Jean was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear that last part, but no one ever said he knew when to keep his mouth shut, so he leaned into Otabek as they stepped into the lift and asked, “So… you ‘n Yuri? Is it really a thing? No one knows.”

Otabek didn't reply, simply hoisted Jean’s weight up farther, and pulled him off the elevator on a new floor. Jean grinned, “Oh, okay, I got it. Your secret is safe with me. Though, it really isn't much of a secret.”

“JJ, shut up.” He released the Canadian at a doorway and unlocked the door, “Do yourself a favor and go to bed.”

Jean sighed and rolled into his room, heavily relying on the wall, “Okay, fine. Spoilsport. Key?” He held his hand out, palm up, and felt himself sway. He expected the cool feel of his keycard and was distracted when a hot hand grabbed his wrist and tugged him forward. The jerk made his stomach rebel, but he was too distracted by Otabek suddenly being _right. there._

His eyes widened as he looked at the fellow skater, Otabek leaned in closer and he felt way, way more sober than he had an instant ago. He could feel the warmth of Otabek’s breath, could smell his cologne, Jean was suddenly acutely aware of the proximity of every part of his body to the other. Otabek hovered until Jean could get his eyes to focus.

Then he smiled and JJ was lost. Otabek never smiled, at least not with anyone other than Yuri. He swallowed and found his voice, “Wh-what?”

“What is it you want, JJ? I’ve seen how you look at him. Do you want what I have?” He paused, but Jean couldn’t find his voice, “Think about it. I’m not really good at sharing, but I could probably make an exception.”

Wait. _What?!?_ Jean’s eyes went wide. What was Otabek saying? Jean was sure it was just the alcohol in his veins making him read the questions wrong. Surely, Otabek didn’t mean it _that_ way.

Otabek pressed the keycard into his hand then released him, taking a step back as he patted Jean’s cheek once, “Think about it, some time. For now, go to bed, you’ve got an early flight.” And then Otabek was gone, leaving Jean to stand in his doorway, feeling lost and confused.

When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of brilliant blonde hair and hands that burned him.

◇●◇●◇●◇

Yuri asked him again.

It’d been a month since the Grand Prix and Jean was going stir crazy at home. He threw himself into practices, his schoolwork, and his volunteering efforts. Nothing worked, there was an itch in his skin that he couldn’t shake. He stalked Instagram far more than he cared to admit. Izzy could only watch it for so long before she suggested he needed a vacation.

Honestly, it was the last thing he needed, but when Chris invited him to his ski lodge in the Swiss Alps on the same day, he took it as a sign. He packed a bag right then, booked his flight for the day Chris told him to, and then threw himself back into his routines until he felt like he was suffocating.

He’d been to Chris’ place before, but when he arrived this time, there were far more people and he was alone. He had been expecting a few friends, not the entirety of Chris’s circle to be present. He was talking the finer points of Phichit’s ice show with Viktor when the front door flew open one more time and admitted none other than Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin.

The blonde’s eyes flew around the giant main room, then zeroed in on Jean. He was glad he’d set his mug down or he would have dropped it. Yuri stormed across the room, abandoning his bags to Otabek. Jean managed to get out, “Hello, prin-” when a hand grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.

“Shut up and take us to our room.”

Jean frowned, then cast his gaze over towards Chris, who only grinned at him. Jean shrugged, “You’re going to have to ask Chris on that one, sweetheart. I’m just here for the snow.”

Yuri muttered something in Russian and let him go, storming off towards the owner of the lodge. They spoke briefly, Otabek joining them with the bags in tow, before Yuri abandoned them to retrieve Jean, grabbing his hand and towing him across the room, “Come on, asshole.”

Jean was startled, looking down at Yuri’s delicate hand holding his. He liked the feel of it, wanted to wrap his fingers around it. But he remembered Otabek as they stopped beside him, his mere presence calling Jean’s attention. The two spoke in Russian to each other again, Yuri still firmly holding on to Jean, which sounded a little heated. Otabek said something that made Yuri freeze and Jean was surprised to see a blush dance across his face. They stared at each other for what felt like forever, and Jean tried to extract himself from the situation.

“No.” Yuri’s voice grabbed his attention and his hand wrapped tighter in Jean’s, “We need to talk. Take me to your room.”

“Is that-”

“Shut up and walk.”

Jean nearly stumbled over the first stair as he led the way, his hand behind himself, still in Yuri’s grip, “Princess, what is going on?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up? We’ll talk about it in your room.” When Jean glanced back at him on the landing, Yuri was looking at his feet, his face on fire. Jean sighed and took him up one more flight of stairs then down a hallway, pushing open his room’s door.

He’d made it all of two steps inside when Yuri yanked him around again and slammed him up against the door as it closed, letting go of his hand and grabbing at the collar of his shirt. He made a startled noise that was cut off as Yuri pressed himself against him and kissed him firmly. He tasted like his cherry chapstick, which was the first thing Jean noticed, before his brain caught up with his opening mouth and he realized he was being kissed by _Yuri Plisetsky_. Again.

Yuri broke it off too quickly and Jean chased after his lips briefly, but Yuri shook him and pushed him into the wood again, “What the fuck? Why didn’t you answer Otabek when he asked, but here you are, okay with kissing me again? What the fuck, JJ?”

Jean frowned and held up a hand, “I think I’m missing something. Aren’t you and he dating? As much as I enjoy kissing you, that kind of puts you off-limits.”

Yuri stared hard at him, before he shoved him one more time and let him go, pacing across Jean’s room, then back again, before answering, “He asked you, didn’t he? Was I reading everything wrong?” He looked up, his facial expression so fragile, “Don’t you want me?”

Jean was too young for a heart attack, but he was pretty sure his heart stopped. He worked his mouth a few times, before covering it with a hand and brushing past Yuri to sit down on the bed, his knees going weak, “Wait. You’re...he was serious?”

Yuri huffed and dropped down to his knees in front of him, putting his hands on Jean’s thighs, “Answer the fucking question. Do you want me or not?”

“ _Chaton_ , I…” Yuri’s eyes sharpened and Jean felt fingers press into his thigh, “It’s kind of obvious isn’t it?” He managed to push out.

Yuri’s face changed instantly, his expression both softened and sharpened, and his hands crawled higher up Jean’s thighs. The sensation was enough for him to break away and look at the delicate hands on his legs, and broke the spell he’d started to fall under enough for him to ask again, “But you and Otabek? He’d really just let you...he’s okay with you…?”

The hand he’d been staring at moved and touched his cheek, forced him to look at Yuri, “Do you think,” Yuri purred, “he would let me be in here alone with you if he wasn’t?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Jesus fuck, JJ. Yes, he’s fine with it. He’s more than fine with it. He _tried_ to invite you, but you’re not the brightest color in the crayon box.”

“I was _drunk_. You’re lucky I even remember what you’re talking about.”

A smile curled onto Yuri’s lips, “And why were you so drunk?” He pushed himself up and pressed forward between Jean’s legs, “What made you feel like you needed to drink half the bar? Did you miss your wife?”

“I’m not married anymore.” Jean tried to move back, but Yuri’s hand on his thigh kept him trapped right where he was.

Yuri’s smile grew, “I know. So, what was it?” He lifted both hands to cup Jean’s face, then pulled it forward and turned it so he could murmur directly into his ear, “Were you jealous? I know you were watching. I’m happy to know our efforts weren’t in vain.”

“Eff...Yuri, what are you talking about?”

Yuri pulled back just enough to turn his face forward again, Jean could feel his breath brush along his face, “I’ll ask you one last time. Do you want me, JJ? Do you want us? We want you.” Yuri’s fingers slipped from his face and the blonde pushed himself away, rising to his feet gracefully.

Jean could do nothing but watch the roll of Yuri’s hips as he sauntered away from him. Before he could vanish from sight, Yuri turned and lifted a perfectly defined eyebrow, “Think about it.”

Yuri pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Jean alone with his thoughts.

◇●◇●◇●◇

Otabek touched him first.

His fingers were like fire, first under his shirt, over Jean’s stomach, then lower, hooking into Jean’s workout shorts. Their eyes stayed locked together and Jean was pretty sure this was how he was going to die; in a tiny gym locker room, the only sounds around them their breaths and the far-off noise of a basketball game in another part of the building. Otabek didn’t ask, didn’t speak, pushed Jean against the cold locker with one hand while the other pushed into his shorts and found him. He gasped, felt heat spread across his face as he looked down, then back up again.

Otabek moved closer, made Jean’s world shrink until it was just the two of them. Jean’s body betrayed him, reacted against the burning fingers that wrapped around him and pulled. It drew the first noise from him, and he saw the reaction in Otabek’s eyes, like the sound had been approval. A knee pushed its way between his legs, and he couldn’t help rutting up against it. Jean broke eye contact again to throw his head back, barely registering the pain as it hit the locker. Otabek didn’t stop, even when Jean threw a hand onto his bicep and squeezed, his hand moved faster, breath harder, like watching was enough to get him off, too.

Jean’s body tensed, and Otabek must have known, he pushed the shorts lower and freed Jean’s cock to the warm air between them and milked the head of it hard. Jean was ashamed how quickly he hit release, digging his fingers into Otabek’s arm again in warning before he was shooting ropes of cum between them, hitting Otabek’s stomach and drooling down Otabek’s hand to drip to the floor. Jean slumped against the locker, gasping for air, Otabek withdrew his leg and stilled, waited.

When the other didn’t move away, Jean opened his eyes and fought to focus. Intense brown eyes were watching him, then Otabek lifted his hand and took one long swipe at the mess on it. Jean shivered. Only then did Otabek back away, picking up his discarded towel from the bench to clean himself off. Jean could only watch until Otabek slammed his locker closed, shouldering his bag.

They stared each other down. And then Otabek walked away.

◇●◇●◇●◇

He went to their hotel room first.

Yuri opened the door, looking at his feet, then sliding his emerald eyes up over Jean’s body. A slow smile spread as he leaned against the door frame, “What are you doing here, maple leaf? Get lost again?”

Jean glanced down the hotel hallway, anxiety hitting his chest, “I’m not sure.” The truth hurt, he really didn’t know what he was doing, but Yuri looked so good in a silk violet robe, that Jean was sure he wasn’t wrong, “I just...came to answer you both.”

Yuri’s eyes lit up and a hand reached out to grab his shirt, hauling him into the dim hotel room, pushing him past himself, to lean out and double check the hall. Satisfied, he closed the door.

Jean was sure it was the right choice when a warm body pressed into him from behind as Yuri descended like a tiger pouncing on prey.

◇●◇●◇●◇

They came to Canada first, after their...whatever this was...was established.

It was the off-season, a break between competitions where Jean focused more on his clothing line and volunteering than being on the ice. When they both arrived, he brought them home with him. Hours later, sated and showered, he dragged them everywhere until Otabek had to beg out and they went home to sleep.

It made his heart beat faster, laying awake while they slept beside him. This was different from Izzy, different from anything he’d ever had before. And they wanted him like he meant something. They all needed to talk, eventually, some time while they were visiting, maybe. It twisted in his gut and needed to be pushed out. They needed to understand and make him understand. He wasn’t here for fun, he didn’t _do_ these kinds of things. These were the things his parents always told him shouldn’t happen.

The blankets shifted and a pale arm threw itself across his chest, startling him from his thoughts. Heavy Russian muttering, then the arm rose and the hand pushed against his cheek as a breathy voice said, “Stop, I can hear you thinking and it’s annoying. Go to sleep.”

Jean couldn’t help the laugh and nodded, pressed his lips into the palm of Yuri’s hand, “Of course, _chaton_.”

He didn’t do these kinds of things lightly. He let go of Yuri’s hand, and it fell lifeless, as the other had already drifted off to sleep again. He was trapped already, and he hoped they were in this with him.

◇●◇●◇●◇

Yuri said ‘I love you’ first.

Their birthdays were normally celebrated on Skype calls, so when Jean had the opportunity to surprise Yuri, he took it. He set it up with Otabek, the two of them flying in to Moscow at similar times, then taking a taxi together. Otabek had Yuri’s grandfather’s number already, for emergencies, he’d said, and sent him a message to let him know they were on their way. Jean wasn’t sure if his position in the relationship had been established with Yuri’s grandfather, he’d seen the man at competitions, doting over his grandson, and Jean tried to not be nervous. Maybe he should play his role as a friend, he’d stand back and let Otabek play the boyfriend, he could paste that smile he used at press conferences when he lost and stay behind.

Yuri wasn’t there when they arrived. The old man, Nikolai, he demanded to be called, was eager to greet both of them, far more welcoming than Jean had expected. Otabek pulled him down beside him on the couch, introduced him to Russian tea, and that was that.

They were discussing hockey when the front door burst open and Yuri swept in like a monsoon, bringing a burst of cool air from outside with him. He froze when he saw his grandfather wasn’t alone, and Jean loved to watch the transformation of his face as he went from scowling to surprise to recognition. The smile that appeared was worth everything.

Otabek nudged him and they both rose to turn to greet him. When the other didn’t speak up first, Jean said, “Happy Birthday, _chaton_.”

It was like a bullet releasing from a gun, a thunder clap, and Yuri dropped what he was holding and launched himself at them. Jean let out a startled laugh as arms hugged both of them at once, then separated and hugged them each individually. Jean tried to not make it personal, tried to play the friend, but Yuri felt it and pulled back, frowned up at him, “Don’t be an idiot.” then pulled him into a kiss that caught him completely off-guard.

He heard Yuri’s grandfather laugh, then rise and move off to the kitchen, to give them privacy or get another cup of tea, Jean didn’t know. He took the chance to wrap an arm tight around Yuri, which earned him an approval, before the kiss broke. Yuri hit his arm and hissed, “What are you two doing here?”

Otabek answered, sitting back down on the couch, “It’s your birthday. Jean had an idea and I ran with it.”

Yuri’s eyes moved between the two of them, then settled on Jean’s face, “You planned this? How can you guys afford it?”

Jean grinned, “Did we surprise you?”

“Of course, jackass.”

“Then it was worth it.” A pretty blush spread over Yuri’s cheeks as he shoved at Jean’s chest. Jean moved to release him, but Yuri stepped into him again, hands sliding up from his chest to his face, forcing him to look.

“You’re both terrible,” he hesitated, bit his pink lip, “but thank you. I...I love it. I love you.”

It was the best thing Jean had ever heard.

◇●◇●◇●◇

Jean left them first.

It was Christmas Eve, something they apparently didn’t celebrate in Russia, but it was important to Jean. He brought them to his home, Yuri helped him decorate the tree and string lights around the living room while Otabek cooked dinner. Jean loved every second of it, like a new adventure, everything about it became wonderful. Yuri’s laugh then attempt to sing along to Christmas songs he didn’t know the lyric too. Otabek’s smart-ass replies to their trying to keep him in the conversation.

He had to go pick his parents up at 5, and assured them both he’d be back with them for dinner. He begged them to not make a mess while he was gone and watched Otabek haul Yuri off towards the bedroom with a wink. He zipped up his jacket and pulled on his knit hat before heading out to his pre-warming car.

Even Jeans Canadian blood couldn’t stop the bite on his face as he hurried through the cold to his car. The silver vehicle reflected neighborhood christmas lights in beautiful ways as he climbed inside, turning up Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas’ and singing along as he merged into traffic.

This was the best Christmas ever, though he hoped future ones would be even better, maybe with more people; Yuri’s grandfather and Otabek’s currently less-than-accepting family. He grinned to himself at the thought of everyone around the tree, getting to know each other. They could make this work.

Jean reached out to adjust the vent above the controls, then looked down as he pushed the knob on the heater a little lower.

A horn sounded.

Jean heard metal crunch and shriek in the most awful way. There was an instant of sharp pain.

And then nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> I flagged it as Major Character Death, but really...I'm gonna leave it open ended like this for anyone to interpret at will. Thank you for reading! Please don't hurt me.


End file.
